


help me, hypervodkas, you're my only hope

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Harkness met Amy and Rory long before he met the Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	help me, hypervodkas, you're my only hope

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimers** : This isn't for profit, just for fun. All characters & situations belong to Russell T. Davies, Stephen Moffat, BBC, and their various subsidiaries. Title's an allusion to a famous line from Star Wars, which I also had nothing to do with.  
>  **A/N** : Takes place right after A Christmas Carol, so actual spoilers through that, with vague references to lines from The Impossible Astronaut and The Doctor's Wife. See, I was rewatching Nine's eps (Niiiine♥) and Jack mentions sleeping with his executioners, and, well, this happened. If Torchwood addressed that scenario already, I don't know about it, because I've never seen Torchwood, so consider this non-canon compliant for TW.

_Relaxing holiday_ , the Doctor had said. _We'll put you on a planet this time! Little to no chance of crashing!_

It had sounded like a great idea-- one week, all expenses paid (or something like that), on a universally acclaimed pleasure planet, where people got up to things that the Doctor couldn't describe without coughing and blushing and sputtering. Rory and Amy had then taken turns reading phrases aloud from the information the TARDIS helpfully called up on the scanner. The Doctor had run about with his hands clapped over his ears, and it had been hilarious to watch him try and fly the TARDIS that way. He'd managed to get there, though, wished them well, and then he'd shoved them out the door as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't chance seeing anything, as he put it, _untoward_.

 _Be back in a week_ , he had called as he closed the door. _It's perfectly safe!_

"Unless you don't want it to be," Amy had said, linking her arm through Rory's, and then they had laughed, and then they hadn't really talked about much of anything for several days.

\+ + + +

On the fourth day of their seven-day holiday, disaster strikes, and Rory thinks that he really should have known better. Doctor-planned romantic getaways for his favorite pair of newly married Ponds never do quite what they say on the tin, unless, of course, the tin says, "Now with 100% more running! Bonus spaceship crash and horrible death included!"

He has to admit, the horrible death was particularly sneaky this time, and mercifully without a spaceship crash. There hasn't even been any running so far, just the heavy sense of impending doom that he's sure anyone would feel if they'd been mistaken for half of a pair of intergalactic executioners, the kind that sign contracts that legally allow their customers to shove them out an airlock if they fail to perform the services promised. He's not sure exactly why they need executioners if they're willing to shove the two of them out an airlock, but the guy who had talked to them had mumbled something about ethics and how it wasn't a problem since they'd legally consented through the contract, or something to that effect: Rory hadn't really been listening carefully past the part where they would have to kill someone.

He takes another look at himself in the mirror of the hotel room they've been assigned, squinting at his reflection. How anyone could have mistaken him for an executioner is really beyond his understanding. He's just a simple guy from Leadworth, England, Planet Earth, circa 2010. He's Rory Williams. He loves Amy, Laurel & Hardy films, and Amy, in that order, and he's a nurse, he _fixes_ people, he patches them up and makes them better, or sometimes he just sits with them until long after the end, because sometimes that's all that can be done, but he doesn't end lives, he tries to make sure they continue for as long as possible, and if it's not the last awful choice between life or an untimely death for Amy, he's not sure he could kill anybody.

Besides, he thinks, poking his head back into the bedroom of their suite, where Amy is currently trying on a skintight catsuit, Amy is the clear winner of the contest for Baddest Badass of the Pond Family.

"What do you think?" Amy asks, turning in a slow circle and clipping on a utility belt. "Do I look properly scary?"

Rory gurgles something unintelligible, and Amy grins at him. If they get out of this one, he's sure Amy already has _plans_ for that suit, and now more than ever he desperately wants to live through this. "Yes," he manages to say, "but I think that's more of an assassin's outfit, don't you?"

Amy frowns and runs her hands down her sides. "Well, what does an intergalactic executioner wear, then?"

"To his own execution, who knows," Rory grumbles, and Amy rolls her eyes.

"We're going to be fine, stupid," she says, slinking over to him and taking his hands in her own. "You'll see, it'll all turn out."

\+ + + +  
Jack Harkness is having a bad day. It turns out that trying to sell a non-existent freighter of sex toys to the high council of a universally renowned pleasure planet is a bad idea. He's probably been in scrapes worse than this, all things considered-- his "prison cell" is really just a more modest version of one of the rooms in the planet's legion of resort hotels-- but even so, being sentenced to death on a pleasure planet is really an extra kick in the balls, especially when they send a particularly gorgeous alien, species unknown, not that that's ever stopped him before, to ask what he'd like for his last meal.

"How about you?" he asks. "Are you on the menu?" It's a bad line and he knows it, but he's always found that if you say it with enough charm, even a bad line can open doors, or whatever else you'd like it to open.

"You're not my type," the alien replies.

"Human, huh," Jack says, almost apologetically.

"Alive," the alien grins, revealing three rows of perfect, terrifying teeth. "Now. We were discussing your last meal?"

"Four hypervodkas, please," Jack chokes out.

\+ + + +

Amy wears the catsuit after all. She insists that Rory wear the centurion's uniform, which makes him feel a little silly at first, but after they leave the hotel and head toward the detention center, he's glad for the small comfort of the memories the uniform brings back. He's lived through quite a lot in this uniform. Maybe he can live through this, too.

There are guards blocking the door to the center. Amy strides up to them confidently, and Rory tries to match his pace to hers.

"State your business," says one of the guards.

"Er, the name's Pond," Rory says, doing his best Bond voice. "Rory Pond." The guards stare back at him blankly, and he suddenly has the insane urge to laugh. He tries to stifle it, but a nervous giggle escapes all the same.

"Beautiful day for an execution, don't you think?" Amy says to the guards. "That's our job. We're here to off Prisoner #AA23." She smiles up at them, just enough teeth to look dangerous, and the guards bow nervously and move aside to let the two of them pass.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Rory demands quietly as they shuffle down the long corridor.

"I am _trying_ not to blow our cover," Amy replies, elbowing him in the ribs and cursing under her breath when her arm hits the hard plating of his Roman centurion's armor. "Unlike some people."

"What? That was in-character! James Bond killed loads of people," Rory points out.

"He didn't giggle like a deranged schoolboy while he did it," Amy hisses. She checks the card in her hand and gestures to the door nearest them. "This is it."

"If we start running now, we might make it to the end of the hall before they catch us," Rory proposes. "You know, this is usually the moment when the Doctor comes up with something stupidly brilliant."

"Well, he's not answering my calls," Amy says, and Rory can tell that she's worried, but he knows better than to point it out. "So we've got to figure this one out on our own."

"I just hope this doesn't turn out like all those spy games we played as kids," Rory sighs. "You always tossed me in the shark tank."

"I always rescued you!"

"I usually lost an arm! Once I lost a whole leg!"

Amy waves her hand. "And you complained about it for _days_. It wasn't even real."

"This is real!" Rory exclaims, gesturing down the corridor in the direction of the guards. "This is very real!"

"I don't think they have sharks on this planet," Amy says, matter-of-factly, and keys in the code on the door, which slides open automatically. "And here we go."

\+ + + +

"You know, I'm sure you two get this all the time," Jack says, gesturing toward them with his glass, "but you are both _drop-dead_ gorgeous."

"Oh, yeah, all the time," Rory replies. "From the loads of people we've, you know, killed."

"I mean it, seriously," Jack continues, pausing only to slurp up some more vodka. "If you two are the last thing I see, I will die a very happy man. I don't suppose you ever do your executions naked?"

"Give me some of that vodka and I'll see what we can do," Amy says. She steps down on Rory's foot and he yelps. "We might even snog you. We're very flexible."

"Flexible, right," Rory agrees blithely, momentarily distracted by memories of bunkbeds and nakedness and yes, yes, Amy is correct, they are _very_ flexible. He picks up the glass of hypervodka that Jack pushes across the table and takes a huge gulp.

"Careful with that, big guy," Jack advises, winking at Rory. "Oh, if I had credits for every time I've said _that_ , I could buy my way out of here."

"Are you coming on to my husband right now?" Amy asks, her tone clearly indicating that she's not terribly bothered by the idea. She reaches over and claims the fourth glass of hypervodka for herself, sipping slowly. Under the table, she pushes her leg against Rory's, and he smiles in spite of the awkwardness of this whole situation.

"Not just your husband," Jack grins, and finishes the rest of his first glass. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was having a wet dream. Hot guy dressed up like an ancient Roman, hot girl dressed in a skintight catsuit? Actually, I think I've had this dream before."

"How did it end?" Rory says, the words falling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Amy grabs his hand under the table and squeezes it, but when he looks over, he can tell that she's intrigued.

"I could tell you," Jack drawls, starting in on his second glass, "but I always did like to show instead of tell."

 

\+ + + +

They drink. They drink until all four enormous glasses of super-powered liquor are empty and the three of them are doing nothing but sitting around the table, giggling and talking and _flirting_. It should bother him, somehow, to watch Amy flirt with another man, but since the man in question is one, not the Doctor, and two, is also flirting equally with Rory, he's not really that bothered, plus the pleasant buzzy feeling in his brain from all the vodka and the warmth in his belly from watching Amy slink around all day in her catsuit tell him that everything is very, very good right now. Even the threat of horrible death seems like yesterday's trouble. Jack reaches for a glass that he knows very well is empty and knocks it over, then _accidentally_ slides his fingers against Rory's as he sets the glass upright again.

Amy walks her fingers up Rory's arm and tugs him down for a kiss that turns into both of them groping each other, Amy crawling into Rory's lap, Rory tugging ineffectively at the zipper of her catsuit.

"This is a great show," Jack says, breaking into their tongue wrangling, "but I'd rather play than watch."

"I forgot you were here," Rory says, grimacing apologetically as Jack pulls a face of you're-breaking-my-heart.

Amy slides off Rory's lap and reclaims her seat, then looks at both of them for a long moment and says, "I didn't," in a voice that makes Rory want to strip her naked and go at it on the table, right in front of Jack.

"Well?" Jack says, palms spread on the table.

"It's just for tonight, though," Rory says, sharing a look with Amy, who grins at him. "We will have to kill you in the morning."

"That is the business," Amy sighs. She leans against Rory and he kisses the top of her head.

"Shall we?" Jack says.

Rory doesn't really know what to do at first, but Jack strips out of his clothes in seconds and automatically looks to Amy, waiting, Rory realizes quickly, for _orders_. Taking orders from Amy, especially sexy orders, is a game that Rory loves to play, and the longer he stares at his wife and the naked fifty-first century man in front of him, the harder he gets, so when Amy tells them to kiss each other, he steps over to Jack without hesitation.

Rory has never kissed a man before. There was that time in first form when one of the other boys had to kiss him on a dare, but it was strange and awkward and both of them made funny faces afterward, and then Jimmy didn't talk to him for the rest of the year, but this is not like that. For one thing, he's a little drunk, and for another thing, he's definitely into it, and for another other thing, Amy is here and she is _also_ definitely into it. He can tell by the way she practically growls when Jack grabs the back of his head and threads his fingers through Rory's hair.

So now he's kissing Jack, who is naked, and Amy is watching them and making hungry little noises and Rory is excited for whatever idea she will come up with next yet perfectly content to keep kissing Jack, who is very, very good at kissing.

"That's enough," Amy says breathlessly, after a very long moment of Jack and Rory snogging, which had basically turned into a very long moment of the two of them groping each other and moaning while Amy bit her lip and played with the pull of her zipper.

Jack looks at him the same way Amy does after they've just escaped some new horror, like he's hungry and Rory is the only thing in the universe that will satisfy him. That look never fails to turn him on when it comes from Amy, and it's not out of place on Jack, either. Rory glances over at his wife, waiting.

"I don't know why we're still wearing these clothes, Rory," Amy says.

"We who are about to die undress you," Jack jokes, reaching over to pull down the zipper on Amy's catsuit, and they all laugh.

"Aren't you supposed to be saluting us?" Amy asks, pulling Rory toward her for a kiss as Jack's hands peel the suit back from her body, exploring her breasts and hips. "You _are_ seducing a soldier, you know."

"We didn't really salute, in the Roman army," Rory begins to explain, but he's immediately distracted by warm hands under his uniform sliding against his dick, and when he realizes that both Jack and Amy are working him over, he can't say much for a moment.

"There are definitely parts of my body that are saluting both of you," Jack drawls.

"So I see," Amy says, palming his dick with her free hand. She looks at Rory and frowns. It makes her nose wrinkle. "Rory, you are still wearing clothes. Why is that?"

"You didn't tell me to take them off," Rory says, feeling like this should be obvious.

"He has a point," Jack grins, stroking Rory as he says it.

"Uh," Rory replies, and Amy just giggles and starts to unclasp his uniform.

\+ + + +

They wake up in a tangled, naked heap, Jack snoring gently away, his head nestled on Amy's breasts and one of his arms stretching possessively across Rory's chest.

"You know," Rory says, trying not to wake Jack, "I expected to have a hangover."

"I love the future," Amy says, and she presses her forehead against his for a moment before kissing him.

They're finally all awake and dressed just as a loud buzzer sounds and the door slides open, a pack of armed guards filing into the tiny room.

"Boys, boys," Jack says, "if you wanted to join the party, all you had to do was ask."

"Do you really think the best strategy here is to flirt with them?" Rory demands.

"Worked with you," Jack says, shrugging.

"Fair point," Amy says, and then one of the guards grabs her. "Oi! You! Let me go! I'm a very dangerous person! I could kill you, it's my job!"

Two more guards step towards Rory and Jack.

"I'm an intergalactic executioner and a Nestian duplicate!" Rory shouts at the guards, holding out his hand like it might turn into a gun at any moment. "I was built to be armed and dangerous! I've killed more people than you can possibly imagine, and I once waited two-thousand years just to see my wife again, so if you think I won't track every single one of you down to get her back, think again."

The guards waver, just a bit, and the moment's hesitation is all they need. Amy elbows one of the guards hard in the groin and rolls away, and Jack makes a grab for one of the guards' sonic blasters, using the special settings to make a hole in the wall nearby.

"Come on," he shouts, waiting until they're through to jump in after them.

"Surely you would have mentioned it last night if you were really a Nestian," Jack says, and his voice in Rory's ear is low and full of memories. "It could have made things so much more _interesting_. But what about the rest of that stuff?"

"Let's just say that the Ponds lead very interesting lives," Rory replies tactfully, and Jack grins and claps him on the shoulder.

"That we do. Come on, boys," Amy drawls, tugging open the door.

\+ + + +

Through a series of very lucky breaks, they manage to get out of the detention center and off the grounds. Jack leads them down into some old tunnels underneath the city, where he has cleverly hidden a vortex manipulator he bought on the black market. He asks where and when they'd like to go, then types in some coordinates, grabs their hands, and with a jerk and a poof they land in the field where the Doctor dropped them off a few days before.

"Our ride's on the way," Rory says. "I'm sure we could give you a lift."

"Anywhere you'd like to go in the universe," Amy puts in.

"It's tempting," Jack tells them, looking the two of them up and down, as if to say from what he can remember of last night, it wouldn't be a bad way to pass some time. "But I've got my own ride and some scores to settle, so I guess this is goodbye."

"Well, if you're ever in need of a pair of sexy executioners, give us a call," Amy laughs. She goes to kiss him on the cheek, but he slips forward and kisses her lips instead.

"Hey," Rory says in faint protest, but Jack just grins.

"Afraid I'd leave without a goodbye kiss? Not a chance," Jack says, and kisses him.

"Alright then," Rory mumbles. This had been much easier, somehow, when they hadn't been in the middle of a field, the Doctor about to appear at any minute. He'd probably stammer and blush and flail around like someone's grumpy aunt.

"Goodbye, Ponds," Jack says, grinning at both of them. He tosses off a jaunty salute before he hits another button on his vortex manipulator and vanishes away.

"Well," Rory says, after a long pause, "that was certainly an interesting holiday."

"I think I liked being mistaken for an intergalactic baddie," Amy says, punching him on the arm.

"Ow."

"Oh, shut up, it didn't hurt," she says.

"No, it didn't," Rory tells her, smiling, and she steps closer and kisses him, the familiar noise of the materializing TARDIS playing in the background.


End file.
